


Dirty Glass

by FictionalKnight (Northern_Star)



Category: DCU - Comicverse
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-04
Updated: 2010-07-04
Packaged: 2017-11-17 08:23:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/549540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Northern_Star/pseuds/FictionalKnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's the <i>Bat</i> way to do things.... but Jason intends to show Tim the <i>right</i> way to do them instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dirty Glass

**Author's Note:**

> For [](http://not-unwise.livejournal.com/profile)[**not_unwise**](http://not-unwise.livejournal.com/). With heaps of thanks to [](http://iesika.livejournal.com/profile)[**iesika**](http://iesika.livejournal.com/) for her assistance.
> 
> (also *cough* I've never written Jason before and I don't know him too well... please don't hurt me! *runs off and hides*)

It's late at night, Tim can't sleep. He's spent the last hour or so in the cave, dusting off some of the "trophies" that are kept there, cleaning the glass from some of the display cases. There isn't any dust, or even the shadow of a fingerprint anywhere, Alfred sees to that of course. Nevertheless, Tim dusts and cleans regularly, and as he does, he spends a little bit of time reflecting on all these trickets that are kept in the Batcave, and forces himself to recall when and where—and how—they were obtained. Because they'd all be useless if there wasn't anyone who remembered why they were here in the first place.

He wipes a paper towel over the glass box where Jason's uniform is stored. Tim didn't witness the events that led to its being displayed here, of course, but he still forces himself to remember everything he's been told about it, everything he's read. And while he does, he pushes back all the memories he does have of Jason—all the bad memories, all the dark and disturbed things he has been a witness to; everything that would pervert all the good, noble reasons why Jason's uniform stands here in the cave, in the first place.

Tim is lost somewhere in this ritual of remembrance when all of a sudden, he feels someone's presence behind him. The person speaks before he has time to even turn and look.

"You missed a spot," whispers Jason in Tim's ear, his voice low, his tone dangerous.

Tim rolls his eyes and tries to turn around, but Jason won't let him. "Stop your games, Jason," he finally says after a few attempts, annoyed.

"Who says I'm playing a game?"

"You're not supposed to be here," Tim sighs. He tries not to feel threatened. Why should he? It isn't as though he's completely helpless, after all. He could subdue Jason if he wanted to, though he'd rather find out what it is that Jason wants first. Besides, even though Jason isn't exactly in his right mind—not anymore—it's still _Jason_ and there has to be a way for someone to reason with him. At least, Tim wants to believe there is.

"You missed a spot," says Jason again, and he presses his index finger against the glass, staining it with something greasy as he traces an 'R' on the smooth surface. "See? Right here."

Tim sighs and, surrendering to whatever mad scheme Jason has in mind, starts cleaning off the 'R' shape on the glass using small, circular, precise motions.

"You're doing it wrong," complains Jason, and he grabs Tim's wrist, forcing the younger man to wipe the glass by moving his hand from left to right instead. "You always do it wrong."

"What do you mean, _wrong_?" Tim asks, "There's no right or wrong way to do this!"

"Of course there is," Jason snarls back. "The wrong way is what you're doing. Precise, thought out, meticulous. Bat-like. It's wrong. _Especially_ for this glass."

Sighing in annoyance, Tim frees his hand from Jason's hold, then forces him to take a step back so he can turn and look at him. "So what you're saying is that I shouldn't be treating this display case the same as I do the other ones? Why? Because it's your uniform that's inside?"

"Precisely."

There's a strange look in Jason's eyes that Tim isn't quite sure he likes. Of course, Jason often has odd, almost frightening flashes going through his eyes—Tim guesses it's probably a sign of madness—but this isn't one of those. This is different and it gives Tim the chills.

Swallowing hard, Tim risks asking, "How is it that I should be treating it, then?"

"Better," says Jason. "Do it like you care."

"Of course I care!" Tim objects immediately. "Why do you think I bother in the first place? It isn't a though I don't have anything else to do!"

Jason snorts. "You do this like you do everything else. Mechanically, absently, like it's something you've learned to do so well, that you no longer need to think about it, it's just a reflex. An automatic motion." Leaning in, he whispers to Tim's ear, "And that is all _wrong_."

"It's wiping off a glass that doesn't even need wiping!" says Tim immediately.

Pulling away, Jason looks at him, raising an eyebrow. "But the glass is symbolic," he says. He leans in again, a hand already resting on Tim's hip, and adds, "Let me demonstrate."

Tim gasps at the first touch of Jason's tongue against the skin of his neck. "Jason! What are you—?" The rest of his protest turns into another surprised gasp when Jason starts nibbling at his earlobe.

"Relax," he whispers, "let me show you the proper way to do this..." Jason's hand slides from Tim's hip and down the front of his pants to cup the hardening bulge he finds there.

"Jason, stop it," Tim protests, his voice low, though the look in his eyes isn't anywhere near menacing.

"Why?" asks Jason, licking a slow, hot path on the underside of Tim's jaw. He gives Tim's now very noticeable erection a slight squeeze, then chuckles and goes on, "You know you don't want me to stop... You know you want me to show you how to properly take care of something. Let me show you how well I could take care of you, Tim..."

Tim swallows hard, looking flustered. "Jason, please don't," he says, though every part of his body says the opposite, and he knows full well that Jason can tell.

Jason's only response is a soft "Shhh," as he presses his lips to Tim's.

He encounters very little resistance, very little protest, when he attempts to slide his tongue past Tim's lips. A hand still at Tim's crotch, he goes on with gentle motions, stroking and squeezing until he's rewarded by a deep, low moan.

When he pulls away, Jason smiles and says, "You like that, don't you?"

"Y—yes," stutters Tim, lips swollen and wet, eyes just slightly unfocussed.

Jason's smile turns almost wicked, and he lunges for Tim's lips again. Kissing him deeply, making a point of demonstrating just how much passion he can put into such a task. Tim's knees start going weak, and he leans back heavily against the display case. Jason's hand is still massaging his erection through his jeans, and he moans loudly, hips bucking, then pushes Jason back.

"Enough," Tim says, with as much determination as he can muster. It's not so much that he wants Jason to stop, though the small part of his brain that can still think logically is telling him that this is the right thing to do. Besides, he's going to lose it if Jason doesn't stop teasing and stroking his dick through the thick fabric of his jeans. Tim has definitely been teased enough for now.

Jason eyes him for a second, frowns, then licks his lips and says, "Oh, I disagree." And as he does, his hands move on to unbuckle Tim's belt. "The demonstration has only just begun."

"Jason," Tim whines, though he's not truly doing anything to stop him at all.

"Oh, hush," says Jason, "We both know you'll enjoy this lesson." He kisses him again, tough just lightly, as he unzips Tim's jeans, noting once again that there's very little resistance or struggle from him. It only takes a moment after that before the youngest Robin stands there with his jeans and underwear pooling around his ankles.

Jason closes a hand lightly around Tim's straining erection, stroking it gently, up and down, down and up. Tim's eyes flutter closed, and his mouth hangs open. His head drops against the glass behind him and a strangled sound escapes him. His head snaps back, eyes wide open, when Jason releases him, suddenly and much too soon.

"Turn," Jason tells him, licking his lips. And Tim does, shutting off that last part of his brain that keeps insisting that he shouldn't be doing this.

Tim stands there, very still, facing the glass and doesn't even flinch at all when Jason unbuckles his own belt and drops his own pants, or even when he feels Jason's erection pressing against the plump roundness of his butt.

"You're such a good apprentice," says Jason, his tone gentle and encouraging. Then he spits into his hand quickly before palming his dick, smearing saliva over its length. "No wonder Batman wants you so much..."

"Batman doesn't—" Tim replies, looking over his shoulder, frowning, but the rest of his comment stays stuck in his throat when he feels Jason's finger easing into him. He gasps instead, hands trying to find a hold somewhere on the smooth glass, settling on the sides of the case and gripping tightly.

"Doesn't he?" Jason says in a dark chuckle. "Then perhaps you need a better partner, little Robin." He slides a second finger into Tim's ass, moving in and out, stretching him for what's to come. "One who knows how to treat you right..." He pulls his fingers out, and in one long, slow slide, pushes his dick all the way up inside Tim.

"Yes," groans Tim, though he's got no idea what he's agreeing to anymore, and as Jason starts thrusting, hard and deep, Tim is pretty sure that whatever it was doesn't matter at all.

Tim is already very close now, just on the edge of ecstasy, by the time Jason reaches a hand and wraps it around his full, hard shaft. Barely more than two strokes later, Tim shudders in release, warm seed spilling from him onto the cool, slick glass of the display case. Jason follows him into climax just a few deep thrusts later, in a loud cry of satisfaction.

A short moment later, as Tim sits on the ground, trying to catch his breath, Jason presses a bunched up paper towel into his hand and says, "Now show me you can clean this glass the right way..."

 

>> End.


End file.
